Hunger
by The Sylver Lining
Summary: Future Tense's alternate future. Xanatos tries to starve the rebellion. The Trio are forced to do the unthinkable to stay alive. WARNING for cannibalism, character injury, language, and essentially the worst hell they've ever been put through. Sorry.


"Anything?"

"Nothing. This is - what, night five? Six? Xantaos wasn't kidding about the food embargo, was he?"

"Hope the humans are doing better than we are."

"But just how did they manage to confiscate _every bit_ of food in the city? I mean, from a purely logistical standpoint that's just nuts, there's no possible way his soldiers could locate and-"

"You can do a lot more when you have twice the time. Robots and mutates don't turn to stone at sunup."

"Fine. Still, there's gotta be something _somewhere._"

"Well, I got nothing. Unless you're holding out on us?"

"Yes, Brooklyn, you can see my ribs and I had the dry heaves last night because I'm _hoarding food and feasting on it._ Have you ever had the dry heaves? It's not as fun as it looks."

"Well you don't hear me complaining, do you? And I'm the one that's been rooting through the garbage and-"

"You guys, stop. We're all hungry. It's making us mean."

"Sorry, sorry. I just - _dammit!"_

"Don't kick the wall! There might be a patrol down there right now, you want to add getting shot at to our list of problems?"

"This would never have happened if -"

"If what? No, go ahead, you can say it!"

"...I wasn't gonna say that."

"Well fine, then I will. None of this would have happened if Goliath were here. But he's not, all right? I'm the best we got. We just gotta power through this, the embargo can't last forever."

"Of course it can. Have you looked outside lately? Xanatos can do anything. Anything he wants. He can kill anyone he wants, he can..."

"Hey. Come on. Start talking like that, you start giving up. And we're not. Are we? We're all in this together. We still got each other, we're still a clan. It's just... smaller now."

A long silence.

"Guess if this keeps up we'll just have to start eating each other. You can start with me. It's not like I've done anything useful lately."

"Shut the hell up, Lex, you'd be like two bites."

# # #

They could only run on empty for so long. They all knew it. Days, a week maximum - gargoyles were more resiliant than humans in nearly every way, but they all knew there'd come a night when they'd be too weak to break out of their stone skin, much less venture out looking for something to keep them alive.

And even gargoyle bodies could only push themselves past the limits as long as they were healthy.

Later, Brooklyn would call himself stupid, say he was slipping, Goliath was wrong to leave him in charge, because look what happened. A war broke out, a totalitarian dictatorship took hold, Hudson died, and now he can't so much as dodge a bullet. But it's not weakness, it's starvation, blurring his vision and making his knees buckle, slowing him by precious nanoseconds and ultimately letting the bullet find him.

He screams into Broadway's shoulder as he's caught up and whisked into a dark building away from the gunfire. But he catches his breath and sucks it up because they're right, it's almost sunrise, soon this will just be a bad dream, he'll wake up whole and healed and there it is, there's the sweet paralysis that means it's time to sleep and -

- and it's not over.

He wakes up and he's still bleeding, why is he still bleeding, he's not supposed to be bleeding, stone sleep is supposed to fix everything-

Lex figures that their bodies are so wracked with hunger that even stone sleep can't revitalize them. And it's hard to heal around a bullet.

# # #

"You're not serious. This isn't funny. Look at my face, I'm not laughing."

"Yes, I'm serious. There is no other-"

"There's _always_ another way! We're not doing - _that!_"

"It'll be okay. We can do it safely. It'll be fine."

"I - no. No! I was joking, before! When I said - oh, God, I shouldn't have ever said that, I was _joking_ about-"

"I know. But it's kind of late for joking, huh?"

A pause.

"He wake up at all?"

"No. I thought he might once, he kind of grabbed at me, made some noise, but... no. I just..."

"Lex."

"What."

"Look at me. Come on."

"I can't do this. We're not doing this to you. It can't come to this, it _can't_."

"It's okay. Desperate times... well, I'd say these times are pretty desperate. And it's like I said before. We're clan. Just smaller. And we're not getting any smaller. I won't let that happen. Not if there's anything I can do to stop it."

"I..."

"Come on, Lex. Do it for him."

"God...!"

"C'mere. It's okay. I promise, it'll be okay."

# # #

Slipping into the abandoned hospital through broken windows was the easy part. It was finding anything that would actually be useful that was a challenge. The entire place had clearly been picked clean, offices and patient rooms ransacked, expensive equipment sometimes ripped right out of walls along with the copper piping. Humans had clearly been living in the halls for some time, judging by the small tenements and little things like campfires where MRI machines used to be. They'd also been chased out in a fairly brutal way, judging by the bullet holes and laser burns on the walls.

Broadway lays Brooklyn down on a bed that's too small, meant for softer, lighter creatures, and joins Lexington in the search.

Neither of them really even knew what they were looking for. It wasn't as if there would just be a big box full of syringes that said _KNOCKOUT DRUGS,_ but Lexington had memorized some chemical names his brothers couldn't hope to pronounce, and he said he'd know them when he saw them.

But he didn't. Not a full sedative or general anesthetic, definitely not the amount they'd need to knock out a gargoyle. They almost gave up right then and scoured the ruined cafeteria for something, _anything -_

Lex recognizes a word. Not the first one he was looking for, but it'll _work._ It's a local anesthetic and Lex vaguely remembers something about it being toxic if ingested but that's only in high concentrations, right? Right? And this isn't exactly everyday shit, they don't have time to worry about things like upset stomachs.

Broadway will still be conscious but he won't feel a thing. Might not. It'll be dulled. He won't have to look. He can shut his eyes and pretend he's somewhere else while Lexington focuses on avoiding vital organs and remembering the medical diagrams he's stared at so long they're practically imprinted on his eyeballs, flesh that's superfluous, not necessary for survival, (_this is happening, they are really doing this, no, no, no)_ and Broadway has a lot of it still, so that's good, that's _good,_ they're not all going to die after all.

Lexington is fully prepared to eat every single word he's ever said about his brother's girth, if he can just please, please make it through this all right. Let his hands not slip (first, do no harm) let it be fast and easy and let him somehow be forgiven.

Broadway doesn't flinch away at the knife. Lexington isn't sure if it's because he really can't feel anything (how can _anyone_ not feel anything when _this_ is happening?) or if he's just being braver than anyone should ever have to be.

He makes it as quick as he can, taking as small a piece as possible and thanking his brother every second, because it's survival, it's life. When it's over he stops the bleeding with leftover gauze and hospital sheets, it's barely enough and Broadway slumps onto a creaking bed, a terrible sick pale color Lexington has never seen and never wants to see again.

He's about to run into the next room and feed Brooklyn, or just make sure he's still breathing, when Broadway stops him with a half-coherent sound and a shake of his head.

And Lexington understands, the way the Trio always understand each other without words. Not yet. They have to be sure. If this doesn't work, if what Lex said about anesthesia poisoning from ingesting is right, they have to know because the slightest misstep might kill their brother and that is just not happening, it's not.

The world is already a surreal place. Lexington feels numbed to it all. So it's not that hard to place it in his mouth and chew.

He is violently sick in a corner, and he thanks the poison for making him do what he's been wanting to do all night.

# # #

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I-"

"Just make it _fast!"_

"Okay. Okay-"

"_Do it!"_

"Okay!"

Wyvern was nothing. Demona's betrayal was nothing. The Pack was nothing. Even losing Goliath and Elisa and Hudson was nothing compared to the hell they're in now. Broadway braces both hands against the low ceiling, as much to keep himself still as it is to keep from striking Lexington in an instinctive self-defense.

The plaster crumbles and entire sections of ceiling rain down around them, and Lexington goes somewhere else in his head and this isn't Broadway, this isn't his brother, this is the solution to a problem that will save Brooklyn's life, save all of their lives, and he just has to move from point A to point B.

Broadway bites his lips until they bleed, refusing to let himself roar, scream - because Xanatos is _watching,_ there are eyes and ears everywhere and he'll be damned if he's going to let them be discovered because he was too weak to endure this. And he _can_ endure this. He's had worse. It's been people who really wanted to hurt him, kill him, before. Now it's someone he loves, doing it to save someone else he loves, and that somehow makes it...

No. It doesn't make it any better.

His tears spill from under his squeezed-shut eyelids, and he tries to remember home.

# # #

"Here, eat. Open up. Come on, just - there you go. There goes the airplane."

"Whuhizzit?"

"Gourmet stuffed jalapenas, just eat."

"Lex... thanks."

"Don't thank me. Ever."

# # #

Brooklyn doesn't believe them at first. He thinks they've both snapped, gone totally ass-up bonkers from starvation. That, or they're playing some kind of really incredibly fucked-up joke... until they show him the scars up and down Broadway's side.

He stares. For a long time he just stares without saying anything - then he retches, lurches to one side and leans over the bed rail and tries to empty his stomach but _he can't believe it, they're actually holding his beak shut,_ saying no, don't you dare, don't you make it for nothing, you keep it down and you heal and you survive, this is for you, we're clan, we're family, we're still here and we're staying together.

Long minutes pass and slowly the horrified, anguished sounds fade.

When he can think again, he doesn't have the words. He can't imagine what they've done, what they've been through. And they won't tell him. He doesn't need specific images in his head, the things Broadway snarled and cried to the ceiling, or the way Lexington almost dropped the knife, his shaking hands were so slick with blood.

He slowly reaches out, gingerly touches the stitches holding Broadway's skin together. They're real. It happened. It's not a fever dream, and they're not going to wake up from this madness.

Slowly, Brooklyn presses his palm against his brother's side and lets his head drop, resting his forehead against Broadway's. Lexington sits on the edge of the bed with his back to them, staring at the wall, until Brooklyn grabs him around the too-thin shoulders and pulls him into the hurried, rough embrace.

# # #

"Wow. Never thought I'd be so glad to see unidentifiable McDonalds meat product."

"I know, right? And there's more. Lots more."

"We're gonna be okay. We'll find a new hideout, stockpile all the food we can in case this ever happens again - which it won't. Now the humans know what Xanatos will do to crush rebellion. They won't fight back anymore."

"So that means it's up to us."

"Wasn't it always?"

"Jalapena, this is good. Got any more burgers?"

"Yep. Ba-dah-dah-dah-dah, I'm lovin' it. Even if they are a day old. Maggots just add a nice crunch."

"Yeah... wait, what?"

"Oh. Yeah. I - I just heard. The food embargo... it broke two nights ago."

_"Two? _No. No, that can't be right."

"Yeah. It - yeah. When we were in the hospital. We just didn't hear about it. We were... busy."

"No, no, _no_..."

"It's okay. It's over, it's done. We're all still alive."

"If we could've just hung on for one more night, just one more night-!"

"Forget it! It doesn't matter!"

"Of course it matters! There was food last night, we could have - we didn't have to - do that to you! It was for nothing!"

_"It was not nothing!"_ Brooklyn surprises both of them when his eyes flare white and hand slams down on the concrete. "It saved me. Us! We're still alive right now because of what he did. What you both did. I... let's just move on. We're fine. We made it. Now we can keep moving forward and..."

"And what? Fighting a hopeless cause? This city is occupied, Xanatos' tentacles are everywhere. You really think we're going to make a difference?"

"We have to try. This is our home. This is what we _do. _Protecting the castle, breathing the air, all that. This is what - what Goliath would want us to do."

"Maybe it's time to stop thinking about what he'd want us to do and accept that he's never coming back. We are the only gargoyles in the entire city. We're the only ones _left_-"

"Lex-"

"And it's time to think about survival, not winning! We can't win this one. This isn't a castle, those aren't Vikings out there, and we're alone. We have to do what we gotta do to stay alive. Just like we... did."

"Damn it, I - I can't think about this right now!"

"Hey, take it easy," Broadway is there as Brooklyn wavers on his feet, guides his brother down to sit on the floor. "Don't think about it. Just rest. We can stay here for a while."

"Okay. Yeah, I..." Brooklyn trails off, catching a glimpse of the scars across Broadway's abdomen.

"It's over. We made it." A leathery rustle and Broadway adjusts his wings, hiding the damage from view.

_"_Yeah. Sure."

"And we're gonna keep making it. We're gonna get through this, this _will_ pass. Might take a while, but everything'll be all right again."

"How can you keep thinking that?" Lexington grumbles as he joins his brothers on the floor, burrowing in a little without thinking; there's a primal security in body warmth and contact.

"Because if I let myself think anything else - like that Goliath's not coming back, and this is all there is, if this is _it..._" Broadway frowned, rested his chin on Brooklyn's head; he opens one wing to invite Lex in. "I'm just not letting myself think that."

They're quiet for a long time, curling around each other and wrapping each other in arms and wings and protection. They haven't done this since they were hatchlings, rolling around on Wyvern's flagstones, taking baby naps in the middle of the night. Nothing hurt then, everything was safe, and life was a bright, wide open world of adventure.

The sun rises and a gutted city wakes up for breakfast, every inhabitant thankful for something they've taken for granted so many times before.

Three entwined statues rest in their hiding place in an abandoned warehouse stone even though the rays of the sun don't reach them. They're one cohesive work of sculpted art, holding each other together.

They'd stay that way for a long time.

# # # # #

**A/N: **... oh, Lord. Don't kill me. This idea just came to me and my friend and wouldn't leave us alone, and we are _horrible, horrible people_ who torture our favorite characters for catharsis and funsies. It just had to be written. And I am so, so sorry. I might have been whispering "babies I am so sorry, I love you, I'm sorry" under my breath the entire time writing this. Not sure what is _wrong_ with us, but... pretty sure it's _something._

In any case, if you read this far, good for you. Don't know if I could have gotten through it. Thank you for reading. Now go think some happy thoughts - I recommend Youtubing some kittens.


End file.
